


would you be mine

by softforsamu



Series: long time coming [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alcohol, Background Relationships, Bathroom Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Weddings, background SunaKomo, take a shot every time Yamaguchi blushes, they're horn dogs your honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29432892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softforsamu/pseuds/softforsamu
Summary: Osamu and Yamaguchi are each other's dates to a wedding after months of kind of not really dating. Defining the relationship becomes A Thing.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: long time coming [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2162418
Comments: 4
Kudos: 74
Collections: Valentine's Day 2021: The Cupid Shuffle Crossover





	would you be mine

**Author's Note:**

> a valentine's day special edition sequel of sorts to long time coming!! (but not in the "you have to read the first to understand the second" kind of way)
> 
> it is dedicated to my beloved whore inc. babies who are the reason it exists in the first place
> 
> I hope you all enjoy these two precious dummies being precious dummies

Yamaguchi awakens to a sudden bombardment of morning light and the sound of heavy curtains sliding open.

“Wakey wakey, lovebirds!” 

He turns to tuck himself into Osamu’s warm chest and feels him sigh deeply.

“‘Tsumu, I swear to god…” His tone is menacing, but Yamaguchi is enamored nonetheless with the deep rumble of his morning voice.

“I have to get going - best man duties await. Ya gotta get up sometime. No better time than the present,” Atsumu insists cheerfully. Yamaguchi’s face scrunches up. He opens one eye halfway just a moment too late to shield the half-sleeping man next to him from Atsumu clapping him on the back hard.

“If you have so much to do, why are you still here?” Osamu mutters as he flings one arm in the air to brush away his twin. 

“Okay, okay. I’m leavin’. See ya later, scrubs!” The hotel door slams shut behind him. 

Osamu rolls over and flops one arm across Yamaguchi’s torso to pull him closer. He tucks the other arm under him so that he can envelop him in a tight squeeze. 

“Mm, we gotta get up.”

“Now?”

“You’re the one who made plans for us,” Yamguchi reminds him. 

Osamu grumbles but can’t argue - he _had_ told Suna they would be coming to brunch. He curses himself for the lack of foresight. Had he expected they’d be sharing their room with _Atsumu_ for the night, maybe he would have thought better of it. _It’s_ Atsumu’s _lack of foresight that’s_ really _to blame_ , he concludes, and that satisfies him for the time being. Still unsatisfied, however, is the morning wood he’s rather unsubtly pressing into Yamaguchi’s back. He glides one hand down to find that he’s not alone in that predicament. Slowly Osamu begins to palm Yamaguchi over his boxers.Yamaguchi melts into the touch initially but interrupts when Osamu’s hand threatens to venture below the waistband.

“Brunch,” Yamaguchi reminds him and slithers out of his grasp. “I’m not sharing the shower. S’too small.” He ambles to the adjoined bathroom, leaving Osamu to starfish across the queen bed in defeat.

* * *

Brunch winds up being with Sakusa and Kita in addition to Komori and Suna. One perk of the wedding at hand is that, between Meian’s guest list and Romero’s guest list, there would be no shortage of current and former volleyball players - teammates and rivals alike - to link up with. Osamu insists on not drinking. He’s choosing to be somewhat responsible, at least until he manages to get the wedding cake he was tasked with crafting into the proper hands. Yamaguchi and Komori take to each other right away and split a mimosa pitcher, leaving them both just short of drunk by the time the check arrives.

As the group exits the cafe, Yamaguchi pulls Osamu in by the wrist to bring his mouth close to Osamu’s. 

“We have a bit of time before we have to get ready if you want to go back to the room and finish what you started this morning,” Yamaguchi suggests before blowing a burst of cool air in Osamu’s ear. Osamu’s jaw tenses and he pulls away slightly to look directly at the offender.

“Yamaguchi Tadashi, are you hitting on me?” He means to keep a straight face but can’t help the right side of his mouth from quirking up at the eagerness on Yamaguchi’s face.

“Yes. Is it working?” 

Osamu sighs. “It is, but…”  
  
“But?” 

“But I have worked very hard on a very large and very expensive cake, and it simply must make its journey to the venue. After all, they’ve put a lot of trust in me, and if I disappoint Meian on his wedding day he’ll remind me of it every time I see him for the rest of my life.” Yamaguchi full-on pouts, all sad eyes and protruding lower lip.

“Fine,” he mumbles petulantly. “Send me a picture of it when you drop it off - you never showed me the finished product.” Osamu squeezes the hand he’s holding between them.

“I will. I’ll see you back at the hotel.”

* * *

Yamaguchi returns to their hotel room alone and pitifully horny. He collapses onto the bed and inhales the remnants of Osamu’s scent left on his pillow and curses himself for not giving in to temptation earlier that morning. When he spots the clothes Osamu had slept in lying in a heap on the floor, Yamaguchi is disturbed by the way his own thoughts wander subliminally to carnal corners of his mind. He checks the time on his phone. Osamu will probably be gone for at least another half hour. _Fuck it_.

He pads gently over to the corner with Osamu’s discarded laundry as if walking too heavily might get him caught in the act. Beneath the well-loved tee shirt that had served as his pajamas are Osamu’s worn boxers. _This is a new low_ , Yamaguchi thinks pathetically as he plucks them from the floor and tosses them on the bed. Then he peels off his jeans and hops on the bed, reclining against the headboard casually as if he were about to turn on the TV or read a book. Instead he takes a deep breath and frees his cock from his briefs. 

He holds Osamu’s boxers in one hand and begins to stroke himself. Normally his tendency to worry might emerge at this point to call him a pervert, but as it is he’s pleasantly buzzed and unable to hold back. He starts slowly, only permitting himself to touch halfway up the shaft. When he’s fully hard and desperate for some kind of touch, he gives himself free rein. He covers his cockhead with the soft cotton of the boxers and moves his hand in progressively more rapid twisting motion. As he does, he imagines that it’s Osamu’s hand touching him. “Oh, _god_ ,” he moans and involuntarily bucks his hips. His mind wanders further, generating an image of Osamu shirtless on top of him grasping him by the throat. He lets the hand that isn’t currently occupied move up so that his fingers can apply light pressure on either side of his neck. The hand holding Osamu’s boxers moves more rapidly the more pressure he applies. “ _Please,_ daddy, let me cum,” he whispers aloud. The Osamu of his imagination praises him, gives him permission to finish. He does so instantly, painting the navy of Osamu’s underwear with streaks of white. 

Several minutes pass with Yamaguchi just lying back on the bed, eyes closed, letting his breath return to its regular rate and rhythm. When he returns to a state of full consciousness, he realizes he’ll have to figure out something to do with the evidence. He crumples up the boxers and tucks them away in the front pocket of his suitcase. He’ll wash them at home and craftily return them to Osamu’s drawer later on. He doubts he’ll notice, anyway. 

The first thought he has after concealing his shame is _did I call him “Daddy” in that fantasy?_ It isn’t a dynamic they’ve ever dabbled in, and Yamaguchi is surprised at how much he wanted to say it again, how much he wanted to see Osamu react. He’s actively trying to push the concept back into the depths of his mind when he hears a familiar beep signifying a key card unlocking the door. He climbs under the covers and pretends to sleep, lest he be asked what he’s doing.

“Hey, I’m back!” Osamu calls out as he walks into the main bedroom. Yamaguchi feigns a yawn. “Have ya been nappin’ this whole time?” Yamaguchi nods. “You’re a little _lightweight_ aren’tcha?” Osamu teases, tackling him on the bed and tickling his ribcage.

“Okay okay, cut it out!” Yamaguchi cries out between fits of laughter. He reaches for his phone on the nightstand. The first thing he does is open his text from Osamu. As expected, it’s a picture of the cake, and, also as expected, it looks perfect. “The cake is beautiful, ‘Samu.” Osamu beams at him.

“Thanks.” He slaps Yamaguchi’s butt. “Now get up and get ready, we got a wedding to attend.”

* * *

The ceremony is beautiful, as expected, though Osamu misses some of the best parts while stealing glances at his date. It’s just so satisfying to see Yamaguchi’s reactions - the way he snickers at Romero’s son (who is all business as he takes the role of junior best man very seriously), the tears that threaten to spill over when the men exchange heartfelt vows to one another. He’s careful not to get caught; the dopey smile on his face would surely give away the hand he’s kept close to his chest. In seemingly no time at all, the grooms are sharing a first kiss as a married couple, and several people whoop as they retreat down the aisle hand in hand.

Guests leisurely flow from the reception space to cocktail hour as the sun is just beginning to set, giving everything around a warm, pink glow. _It’s beautiful_ , Yamaguchi thinks as he angles his head up to admire the glowing clouds. _The perfect day for a wedding._ He looks to his right, expecting to see his date, but Osamu has begun to veer toward an open table nearby. Knowing that their friends are following close behind, Yamaguchi hovers in the general area of the table just long enough for Osamu to get engaged in conversation with someone else. Then he accepts a brightly colored drink in a martini glass from the server passing by and drifts away to casually recline against a high top table draped in satin. 

He’s drinking in the moment in more ways than one. Whatever he’d been offered is strong but sweet - gin and some kind of berry liqueur - and he likes the way it instantly makes him feel warm. The warmth only intensifies as he takes full advantage of the rare opportunity to take in Osamu as a whole. There had been plenty of people in his past after whom he’d lusted but never quite as unabashedly as he did in that moment. Broad shoulders give way to his sculpted back and narrow waist, and the curve of his _ass_ is just _unreal_. 

What’s truly mesmerizing, though, is the way the slowly waning sunlight Yamaguchi had been admiring mere minutes ago has taken on an entirely new radiance in the form of Miya Osamu. Yamaguchi’s gaze starts where it usually does, concentrating on Osamu’s eyes. Even on a dreary day, they’re beautiful - cool and steely. But right now, as Yamaguchi stares, they’re utterly dazzling - putting the masterfully-cut crystal of the champagne flutes and the chandeliers to shame. They light up while he talks, crinkling at the corners when he flashes a toothy grin at Kita. Despite his impassive exterior, Kita is one of the few people who has ever managed to earn quite so genuine a laugh from Osamu in Yamaguchi’s presence. Silently, Yamaguchi thanks Kita for whatever he might’ve said to earn it; from his vantage point, the view is unrivaled.

Yamaguchi makes no effort to conceal his gawking; he only knows a relatively small portion of the many guests, and none of them are paying him any mind anyway. _It’s the perfect crime_ , he thinks and smirks at his own shamelessness.

It unexpectedly occurs to Yamaguchi that this may be the first time they’ve really been _out_ together as a couple. They had gotten meals together, seen a movie once or twice, spent countless nights on each others’ couches and in each others’ beds. But in the four months that they’d been together, they hadn’t really been _together_ together in the presence of other people. It’s somewhere between romantic and domestic, the feeling of being at an event as a pair. _It’s exhilarating_. After years of admiring Osamu and months of building up whatever sort of undefined relationship they had now, it feels like they might have gone from Yamaguchi and Osamu, two independent entities, to “Yamaguchi and Osamu,” a unit.

And yet, they aren’t. Not really, not properly. Yamaguchi frowns at the intrusion to his thoughts and downs what’s left of his drink. Surely it should be enough that they’re spending time together at a beautiful event with their friends, celebrating the love of two people they care about. _Why can’t that be enough?_

Guests are being herded into the dining area where long tables showcase fine china, elaborate centerpieces, and tiny cards boasting names in intricate script. Yamaguchi’s vision sweeps over to the table where he’d left Osamu, who, incidentally, is looking right back at him. Osamu gives a curious look when he meets the eyes of Yamaguchi, who is now making his way back from his people-watching perch. 

“What have you been up to?” Osamu asks with a fond smile. One arm snakes around Yamaguchi’s back as soon as he’s within reach, pulling him closer until they’re pressed chest-to-chest against one another. 

“Enjoying the scenery,” Yamaguchi murmurs against his neck, and the familiarity of Osamu’s cologne mollifies his racing thoughts for the time being.

* * *

Dinner is as elegant meals tend to be - too many courses with too small portions and too many miscellaneous items that Osamu insists are “garnish, and they’re part of the experience.” Yamaguchi is _experiencing_ dissatisfaction with the size of his entree, but he won’t say as much - he’s too captivated by the way Osamu can go on for ages sharing his culinary expertise if only someone is willing to listen. 

When he finally wraps up his harangue, Osamu is astounded to find that Yamaguchi is still giving his undivided attention, smiling even. Osamu rests his chin on his fist and yields to his desire to just stare dreamily for a moment. For all intents and purposes, their meal is over, and they both know it. Osamu doesn’t even think about how they’ll soon be cutting into the cake he poured hours of his best effort into perfecting; his mind is preoccupied, obsessing over the way Yamaguchi is linking their legs together under the table. It occurs to him that even then he doesn’t feel _close_ enough, like at any time Yamaguchi could pull away. He scoots his chair just a bit closer and tugs on Yamaguchi’s forearm - a request for him to lean over. 

Suna doesn’t miss this, of course, and makes a disgusted face which Osamu returns. He turns his head back to his date, who is now resting his cheek against Osamu’s arm. “Hey,” Osamu murmurs. “You’re really handsome.” Yamaguchi blushes and tries to pull away, but Osamu grabs him back. “Thank you for being my date.” 

The words tickle Yamaguchi’s ear and send shivers up his spine. It sends more blood rushing to his cheeks and, humiliatingly, also to his crotch.

“Babe… are you okay?” Osamu asks, just as quiet but even softer in his tone. He waits for some kind of reciprocation, or at the very least some validation that he hadn’t somehow overstepped. Yamaguchi looks Osamu directly in the eye, cheeks still flushed and pupils blown wide. He grabs Osamu’s hand and slides it slowly up his thigh until it’s resting directly on top of his now rock-hard bulge. Osamu’s grip instinctively tightens and he coughs rather unconvincingly to cover the sound of surprise he makes. 

“I’m sorry. I just…” Yamaguchi is now very blatantly staring at Osamu’s lips. “I just need you. Bad.”

“Tadashi,” Osamu starts. His voice is low now and authoritative, his hand unmoved. Osamu rests his nose in Yamaguchi’s hair - to an unsuspecting onlooker it might look like a sweet moment, but his lips are pressed to the shell of Yamaguchi’s ear. “Go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you there in two minutes. Be on your knees and waiting.”

* * *

There’s a small alcove in the wall opening into a den filled with lush seating and, on the other side, a door leading to the private bathroom. Osamu quickly thanks his lucky stars and his friends’ extravagant taste for the luxury. He doesn’t hesitate to walk into the bathroom, just closes the door behind him and confidently leans back against it. His arms cross loosely at his chest. He stares in silence, taking in the sight of Yamaguchi knelt on the marble floor. Several of his shirt buttons are undone, allowing it to hang loosely off his shoulder. His slacks have already been thrown haphazardly to the side without any regard for the wrinkles that are sure to appear. _That’ll be a problem for later_ , Osamu thinks. Right now, it’s impossible to be concerned with anything but the man in front of him looking positively desperate. 

Osamu narrows his eyes. “Needy,” is all he says as he undoes his own belt. Yamaguchi tries to avert his eyes but a hand catches him by the chin as Osamu approaches. “No. You started this, you don’t get to look away.” Then he’s unbuttoning and unzipping and shoving his best dress pants carelessly to the floor. Yamaguchi wastes no time grabbing at the waistband of Osamu’s now-exposed briefs. “Shirt.” A demand. Yamaguchi finishes unbuttoning his shirt and tosses it to the side to join his long-forgotten pants. Osamu doesn’t immediately make a move, so Yamaguchi obediently waits in place where he’s knelt. 

His patience only takes him so far, though, before he’s leaning in to press hot, wet kisses to Osamu’s thighs. “‘Samu,” he pleads. “I need you so bad. I was gonna wait, but I can’t. I just need you so, so bad.” He traces a finger down each of Osamu’s hip bones before looping them under the elastic band of his underwear. 

Osamu shoves lightly against Yamaguchi’s shoulder, pushing him back just enough that he can yank his own underwear the rest of the way down. He strokes his own cock once, twice, before tapping it against Yamaguchi’s scarcely parted lips.Yamaguchi opens his mouth wide obediently. Drool is already leaking from the corners, as if he’s been preparing himself. 

Without any further commentary, Osamu eases himself halfway into Yamaguchi’s mouth. The sudden hot wetness makes him let out a noise more like a choke than anything else. The sound encourages Yamaguchi, who then grabs the base of Osamu’s dick with one hand and lowers his mouth to take in more of him. Osamu’s breath catches and his hips involuntarily buck several times in quick succession. Yamaguchi moans as he pulls off, the hum vibrating Osamu’s sensitive tip as it’s withdrawn from his lips. 

Osamu winds his hand into Yamaguchi’s hair and shoves him back down hard. “You liked that didn’t you? Like it when I fuck your face?” Osamu groans, relentless in his pace. Yamaguchi makes his best attempt at a nod. It’s becoming harder and harder for him to focus on anything but the rhythm of Osamu’s thrusts and his own fruitless attempts to hold back gags. Osamu can feel the pressure building inside him; each stroke is like taking one step closer to some kind of erotic finish line.

“Oh fuck. Oh _god_ ,” Osamu breathes just before pulling out abruptly. He uses his grasp in Yamaguchi’s hair to tilt his head upward. “I need you to stop or I’m going to cum in your mouth.” Yamaguchi is flushed, panting to relieve the burning in his chest from neglecting to breathe.

“You can cum wherever you want,” Yamaguchi says, and he means it to be bold, _sexy_ , but it comes out more like an eager plea. Osamu smirks.

“Oh I know that.” He crouches slightly so that the two are at eye level with one another. “I want it to be inside of you. So you can hold onto it until we get home tonight.” He stands back up and motions with one hand for Yamaguchi to do the same. When Yamaguchi follows suit, Osamu steps forward so that their faces are separated by a span of mere millimeters. He continues to guide them forward just like that, not touching but too close to sense anything but each other. 

Yamaguchi backs up until the small of his back makes contact with the cold metal of a spotless golden countertop. Yamaguchi’s cock strains against the cotton of his briefs, which he is acutely aware is the only barrier between Osamu’s fully bare erection and his own. Osamu presses his hips against Yamaguchi’s, sandwiching Yamaguchi between the rigid surface behind him and his own sizable frame. Yamaguchi subconsciously grinds himself against Osamu’s bulge, and as he does so he grabs Osamu’s face with both hands and pulls him into a deep kiss. 

Maybe it’s the romantic atmosphere inherent to a wedding or maybe it’s the array of wine pairings from dinner, but Yamaguchi is filled with _want_ in every sense. He forces his tongue into Osamu’s mouth, taking the initiative to explore the territory as if it were his first and last opportunity to do so. Osamu allows him passage and takes action elsewhere, easing Yamaguchi’s underwear down to his midthigh. 

Osamu is the first to break the kiss, leaving Yamaguchi’s mouth empty for just a split second before shoving two fingers in to fill it. “Suck. Hard,” he commands. When Yamaguchi complies, Osamu moves the digits directly from his mouth to his ass where they begin to prod at his puckered hole. Yamaguchi whines at the sudden pressure.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, baby?” Osamu teases. “You just want your slutty hole filled with something.”

“You, I want you.”

“Like this?” Osamu asks playfully, inserting one finger to the second knuckle and pumping it in and out. Yamaguchi lets out a deep groan and leans into his touch. “Or maybe like this?” He adds the second finger coated in Yamaguchi’s saliva.

“More,” Yamaguchi pleads. “Please, please more. I need - ah - I need all of you inside of me.”

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific, baby” Osamu replies casually, as if he doesn’t have his fingers plunged deep within his partner, undulating against his walls. Yamaguchi’s head is now thrown back, putting the smooth, pale skin of his neck on display. Osamu has to use all of his will power not to take advantage of the position and mark Yamaguchi with his mouth. If he weren’t so painfully aware of the party going on just meters away - one that they’d have to return to eventually - he wouldn’t be opposed to turning Yamaguchi’s entire neck a nice, deep purple.

“Fuck me. God, please fuck me,” Yamaguchi begs. Osamu glances down at where Yamaguchi’s hands have turned white with their grip on the counter behind them.

“ _Gladly,_ ” Osamu whispers in his ear before nipping at the lobe. Yamaguchi moves to turn himself around, but he’s stopped by the unyielding grip of Osamu’s hands around his wrists. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Yamaguchi’s chest rises and falls quickly as he stares blankly, unable to answer the question or ask one of his own. 

Osamu narrows his eyes. “I want to see you when I fuck you. Do you realize that I’ve been thinking about this all day? Or has it not occurred to you that _every time_ I look at you I just want to be touching you here?” He punctuates the word with a fist firmly wrapping around Yamaguchi’s cock. 

Yamaguchi finds himself falling forward to catch Osamu’s lips with his own again, and they’re just brushing one another when the sounds of the doorknob turning causes them both to jump. Osamu desperately reaches for something to cover himself while Yamaguchi reaches for Osamu’s body as a shield.

“Oh my _god_ ,” voices the individual who happened upon them - naturally, it’s none other than the groom himself. “Lock the fucking door if you’re gonna fuck in the bathroom!” Meian shouts as he shuts the door behind him, but there’s enough humor in his voice to know it’s all in good fun.

Osamu quickly does just that and turns back to face Yamaguchi, who’s slack-jawed and crimson-faced. Osamu’s tongue runs over his bottom lip as he rolls his eyes and laughs. He hopes that he’s concealing the part of him that’s embarrassed. Luckily for him, Yamaguchi is too consumed with his own mortification to take any notice at all. Instead, Osamu hones in on the part of him that’s completely and utterly aroused by the audience, however temporary. He approaches Yamaguchi again, now with the security of a locked door, and takes hold of Yamaguchi’s arms to sling them around his neck, presses their foreheads together. 

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Yamaguchi breathes finally. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts; Osamu has already reached around to firmly grip his ass.

“Where were we?”

“You’re just gonna… we’re not gonna…?” Yamaguchi stammers. If he was flustered then, the sensation of Osamu still fully hard and grinding against his thigh makes him downright stupid. “Miya Osamu,” he ponders incredulously, “did that _turn you on_?” 

In lieu of a verbal response, Osamu spits in his palm and begins to stroke himself, coating his length. He repeats this action while Yamaguchi watches, transfixed by the obscenity of the scene in front of him. This Adonis of a man that he’s been brazenly making eyes at for hours is now completely nude and touching himself, and if he only just reached out his hand… 

So he does. He spreads the fingers on both hands and traces down Osamu’s pectoral muscles, moving the tips of his fingers achingly slowly down his torso. He pauses briefly to play with Osamu’s nipples, giving them a gentle squeeze and a flick before continuing his downward path. Finally, he reaches his target. He uses one hand to cup Osamu’s balls and the other to guide his cock directly to where Yamaguchi wants it most.

Osamu’s hand takes its place around the base of his erection once again as he braces it against Yamaguchi’s entrance. All at once he leans in to bury his face where the base of Yamaguchi’s neck meets his shoulder and presses his hips forward. He enters slowly by necessity, only his own spit lubricating the process. It’s agonizing, he thinks, a special kind of torture - every inch pressing in feels better than the last, and he wants nothing more than to fully sheath himself.

Yamaguchi groans at the stretch. He holds Osamu’s midsection as he reclines his entire body backward so that he’s laying on the counter with his legs wrapped around his waist. He arches his back slightly to give himself enough leverage to force Osamu deeper and deeper until he’s completely buried inside and achingly still. Osamu is enthralled by the view of Yamaguchi, lean but muscular and laid out just _taking_ him. 

“You can move, ‘Samu,” Yamaguchi whimpers. Osamu keeps his hands on either side of Yamaguchi’s hips, steady but gentle as he pulls out halfway and pushes back in. Then he starts a rhythm of rolling his hips, each stroke sending waves of pleasure from his center to every corner of his body. Yamaguchi moans and it echoes off the tile walls. 

“Oh, baby, I fucking love the way you sound right now. Want this whole hotel to know you’re mine.” Osamu nips across Yamaguchi’s collarbone, leaving behind little red imprints of his teeth. His arms are now looped under Yamaguchi’s legs, elevating him to optimize the angle between them. In turn, Yamaguchi tightens his legs around Osamu’s sturdy back, pulling him as close as physically achievable. 

“Just like that, please don’t stop - _oh_ \- please, please, please right there. You make me feel so good, ‘Samu. Just wanna make you feel good.” Osamu answers by sliding a hand across Yamaguchi’s bare stomach and up his shaft to circle around the tip of his dick. 

“You feel amazing, Tadashi, amazing. I’m gonna cum soon. Can you cum with me?” he asks between heavy breaths. He’s jerking Yamaguchi now in synchronous rhythm with his thrusts. They make direct eye contact for a fraction of a moment before Osamu’s eyes roll back into his head.

“I’m gonna -” is all Yamaguchi manages to sputter before he’s painting his stomach in spurts of his own cum. Osamu doesn’t hold back as he thrusts _hard_ twice more before he, too, is spilling himself as deeply as he can reach.

“Ah...” Osamu’s head falls back as his cock pulses several times before he slowly, deliberately pulls out. He huffs out a massive breath and gives Yamaguchi a firm pat on the ass. “Hold onto that for me, will ya?” Then he’s pulling his clothes back on as nonchalantly as he had earlier that afternoon. He fastens his belt buckle and combs the fingers of one hand through his hair twice to give it a tousled-but-not-sex-hair look. It’s completely unfair, the way he looks so effortlessly handsome all the time. It takes everything in Yamaguchi to pull his gaze away before Osamu’s eyes fall back on him. 

When they do, Osamu smiles softly at his date, who’s beginning to redress. He can’t help but think that this must be the cutest human being of all time, all blushy and demure as if he hadn’t been begging to be fucked fifteen minutes earlier. Osamu leans over to surprise Yamaguchi with a quick peck on the lips and says, “Meet me on the dancefloor.”

* * *

Yamaguchi peers out the door and glances around anxiously before exiting the bathroom. He isn’t exactly sure what he would do if there _were_ someone lurking out there, waiting to call him out on his debauchery, but he thinks it’s probably best to be aware regardless. He bolts out of the vicinity as quickly as possible to avoid incriminating himself in front of anyone who might fall into that category of lurker, which is precisely no one.

He assesses the room for a brief moment before he finds Osamu standing somewhat awkwardly at the edge of the dancefloor, dodging those who were already swinging and swaying about. Osamu beams at Yamaguchi when they make eye contact, and Yamaguchi takes off in his direction. Now that he has a spare moment with his thoughts, and especially because of the way he locks his eyes on his date, he takes note of the one thought that’s ricocheting in his head. _“Mine,” Osamu had said. He called me his._ Yamaguchi dismisses the thought as quickly as he acknowledges it. They were having sex, after all. That’s a thing that people say. He probably didn’t even realize he said it, and he definitely didn’t mean anything by it. Yamaguchi gives his head a shake to clear it as he arrives within earshot of the subject of musings.

“Hey, where have you been all this time? You were in the bathroom for, like, _ever_ ,” Osamu inquires facetiously with a smirk. He knows he’s succeeded in his goal when Yamaguchi blushes and cringes faintly.

“Ha ha,” he replies dryly. Osamu reaches out one hand.

“May I have this dance?” He says it dramatically, the way a lord might in a romantic period piece, and Yamaguchi falls hard for it despite the blatant cliche. With joined hands, Yamaguchi leads the two into the crowd. He heads in the direction where he thinks he saw Komori earlier when he was giving the room a once-over. Komori waves energetically when he sees them.

“Hey! I thought we lost ya for a second,” Komori says. More blushing ensues, though there’s no reason to believe Komori suspects anything.

“Ah, yeah, I think someone just wasn’t quite full enough after dinner. Right?” He’s holding back laughter as he turns to Yamaguchi.

“Oh! Did you get dessert? The cake was amazing, honestly,” Komori raves. Osamu draws his eyes away from Yamaguchi’s mortified face.

“Oh thanks, man.” Osamu claps Komori on the back with a grin. “Glad we both got some cake.”

He takes Yamaguchi’s hands in each of his. The trio forms an awkward little pod, Osamu and Yamaguchi pushing and pulling each other around to the beat of the music while Komori does his own thing. He’s one of the few people that can just absolutely let loose on the dancefloor and no one bats an eye. Not that he’s _good_ at dancing, per se, but he looks at home amongst the sea of dancers. Osamu lasts a respectable hour, give or take, before he has to tap out.

“Okay, I think I’ve maxed out my dancing for now.” He looks at Komori. “I’ll go keep Suna company. You kids have fun.” He gives Yamaguchi a quick peck on the temple before leaving him to his own devices. As he emerges from the dancefloor, Osamu is very aware that he’s sweating. He wipes an arm across his forehead and wonders if his shirt is visibly damp.

“Hey, you want anything from the bar? Think I’m done for the night, can’t keep up,” he asks Suna as he nears their table. Suna looks amused at the sight of his clearly out-of-breath friend.

“Sure, just a beer. Thanks.”

* * *

Osamu flags down the bartender to give his order before shooting yet another glance over his shoulder at Komori and Yamaguchi. He snorts at how Komori has somehow convinced his date to look just shamelessly goofy as him. _They really are a funny pair. I’m glad they met,_ he thinks idly. He stays like that, eyes locked on Yamaguchi’s long, flailing limbs, until his attention is called back by the bartender sliding two beer bottles across the counter. Osamu thanks him and makes his way back to the table where he’s unsurprised to find Suna staring at his cell phone with his signature halfway-between-bored-and-amused look. _Always on that damn phone._ Osamu pulls out the neighboring seat and sets a bottle in front of each of them. 

They sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, giving Osamu time to appreciate finally being off his feet, before Suna asks, “So, how’s that goin’?” 

Osamu takes a moment to register what he means, glancing in the direction of Suna’s head tilt. He makes eye contact with Yamaguchi, who smirks and gives him a little shimmy before turning his attention back to the new friends he’s seemingly made on the dancefloor. The corners of Osamu’s lips quirk upward.

“Good,” he says finally, “it’s good but…” Osamu pauses to decide how he actually wants to finish the sentence.

“But you don’t see it going anywhere?” Suna offers. Osamu shakes his head vigorously, not wanting to give the wrong impression, least of all to Suna who, lovingly, gossips more than nearly anyone he knows. 

“No, I mean I really like him. Like, a lot. He’s… he’s great.” Great isn’t quite the word he wants. It doesn’t cover all of the things that Yamaguchi is, all that he’s done to make the few months they’ve spent together feel as significant as every day leading up to them combined.

“Yeah? Good, man, I’m happy for you. But you haven’t locked it down, right?” Suna brings it up so casually; it wholly conflicts with the way Osamu has been obsessing over the same thought. Osamu’s gaze travels from his lap, where he hadn’t realized it had been fixed this whole time, to Yamaguchi and Komori.

“Nah, not yet.” Osamu sighs. He thinks about all the times he’s come close: weekend mornings waking up to brush unruly hair out of an adorably freckled face, evenings where Yamaguchi impressed him with his natural skill in the kitchen as they cooked dinner side by side, late at night when they whisper-wish sweet dreams to one another over the phone. He thinks of the butterflies he still feels when he knocks on the door to Yamaguchi’s apartment, even now - the electrifying anticipation of sharing a presence once again. “I don’t know what I’m waitin’ for, y’know? I really want to, but I keep thinking it could fuck things up between us somehow. But that’s kinda stupid, huh?”

Suna makes a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh that might come across as rude in a friendship any less firmly established than their own. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Trust me, it’s stupid.” And despite the bluntness, it comforts Osamu for one blissful moment.

In a state of abrupt self awareness and less-than-desirable emotional vulnerability, Osamu turns the conversation back on Suna, asking about him and Komori. It’s nice, he realizes, to see Suna like this. Osamu tries and fails to remember a time he’s ever seen his best friend in a relationship that seemed so healthy, so happy. He tells Suna as much and means it. It’s quiet as Osamu’s thoughts run momentarily amok; he tunes back in when he hears Suna say, “You should ask him.” Osamu meets Suna’s eyes. “You know he’ll say yes.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,” Osamu concedes. He knows it’s true, but that doesn’t stop the endless list of excuses _not_ to ask that’s already being drafted in his head.

“Do it tonight.” Suna sounds nonchalant, looking at his phone, his tone giving nothing away. “Don’t make an excuse ‘Samu.” _Dammit._

“I wasn’t gonna.” A lie.

“Sure.”

The two slip back into casual conversation, recounting parts of the day from earlier that each had missed and making loose plans for an afterparty of some kind at a cool, new bar downtown. Truthfully, Osamu is paying about as little attention as he can to the back and forth while still contributing at the appropriate times. His focus is nearly entirely on the boy across the room that he just can’t seem to look away from. Not his boyfriend. His… friend? With benefits? Every other label is so glaringly unfitting that it feels purely _stupid_. 

He’s pulled from his internal monologue by Suna rising from his chair and dismissing himself. Suna intercepts Komori on the path he and Yamaguchi are taking back to their table. Yamaguchi knows better than to stop and wait for his friend; he just smiles over his shoulder at the couple whispering to one another and keeps walking. He’s about to pull out the chair next to Osamu when Osamu hastily stands. 

“Wanna go for a walk?” he asks. Yamaguchi is taken aback by the serious look on his face - probably the most solemn he’s seen him look since they faced off in volleyball so many years ago.

“Y-yeah. We can do that. Is everything okay?” He feels like he knows what’s coming, and surely now isn’t the best time. Surely if he wanted to end things he could wait until they weren’t at a _wedding_ with all of their friends for christ’s sake. He holds his breath until Osamu answers.

“Everything is fine I just… I wanna talk somewhere quieter.” Osamu doesn’t grab Yamaguchi’s hand. He wrings his hands in front of him and walks a bit too quickly for a casual stroll. Yamaguchi has to pick up his pace to keep up. At this point, he’s considering all of his potential different exit strategies. 

He could just turn around right now and go back to the party; he thinks Kageyama and Hinata are still hanging around somewhere, and surely Osamu wouldn’t invite himself into that conversation. He could try to beat Osamu to the punch, but that seems like a piss poor idea given that he’s, y’know, entirely infatuated with the guy. Or he could just suck it up and do his best not to cry. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best plan he’s got.

When Osamu finally stops speed-walking, it occurs to Yamaguchi that they’re back at the conservatory where the ceremony had taken place. Osamu looks at him and holds up one finger.

“Hang on,” he says then turns to fiddle with the handle to the glass door. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he manages to get it unlocked. He gives a cursory glance around before giving a “come here” motion with his fingers. 

They slide into the door and shut it as quietly as possible. Even now, long after all the elaborate decorations from the ceremony had been torn down, it’s breathtaking inside. A small fountain provides the only noise - a soft, constant trickling - and the greenery throughout looks lush and radiant. The moon shining through the roof gives everything a luminosity that can never quite be captured in the daylight. 

Osamu strolls around a bit, leaving Yamaguchi frozen in the entry. He peeks around a corner and spots a bench among the hydrangea bushes. “You coming?” 

Yamaguchi uses all of his mental fortitude to unglue his feet from the floor and join him. They’re both seated for a moment before Yamaguchi breaks the silence.

“What’s up?”

“It’s really pretty in here,” Osamu muses. Yamaguchi looks at Osamu with a hint of irritation.

“You brought me here because it’s ‘pretty in here’?” Osamu rolls his eyes.

“No. Well, okay, kind of, I guess. It just seemed like a place I would want to have this conversation.” 

Yamaguchi takes in a deep breath and lets it out before he blurts out, “Look, if you want to end things, can we just get to that part because the anticipation is kind of making me crazy.” Osamu looks at him with his mouth gaping, eyes wide, brows furrowed.

“What are you talking about? No. God, no, it’s not that, you idiot.” As is his reaction to most emotions, Yamaguchi blushes. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean the idiot part. I’m too used to talking to ‘Tsumu like this I guess.”

“Like what?” Yamaguchi prompts.

“I dunno. Like, honestly.” Osamu is staring at his toes as he taps them on the brick below. He’s nervous. “Look, Tadashi…” Yamaguchi blinks in surprise at the use of his given name. He can’t recall a time Osamu has ever used it outside of the bedroom; he can’t recall a time he’s asked him to outside of the bedroom. “I like you a lot. And I don’t know what we’re doing or how you feel really, and it’s freakin’ me out a little.”

“Are you… serious?” Osamu laughs awkwardly, wishing he could read the situation better. “Osamu. Anyone could have asked me months ago, and I would have been able to tell you I liked you. More than I’ve ever liked anyone. I just… I liked what we were doing. If it meant we could keep doing it, I just… I just let it happen.” This time, Osamu’s laugh is hearty and full. 

“Holy shit,” he whispers. He shakes his head in disbelief and his eyes flit upward as if to thank some guiding spirit. Then he cups Yamaguchi’s chin in one hand and kisses him. He kisses him like they’ve been reunited after years apart. Like they might never get this opportunity again. It starts slow and soft with little swipes of tongue, then becomes hungrier. Osamu grabs Yamaguchi by the waist and shifts him to straddle his lap. Yamaguchi holds the back of Osamu’s head with both hands and fully leans into the kiss, giving it everything in him. It takes several minutes for either of them to gather the strength to break apart. Even then, they stay in place, nose to nose, panting heavily.

“You’re kind of perfect, ya know that?” Yamaguchi asks.

“I’m not. I am lucky, though.” He glances down at Yamaguchi’s lips and finishes, “Really, really lucky.” He goes in for another kiss. It’s just one long, languid, indulgent kiss, but it’s more than enough.

“So you mean it then?” Yamaguchi asks quietly. Osamu looks at him with evident confusion. “Earlier. In the bathroom. You said you wanted me to be yours, wanted people to know I was yours.” Osamu confronts a rare moment of bashfulness and bites his lip at the memory. Then he smiles.

“Yeah. I do.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you oh so kindly for joining me as I push the OsaYama agenda. Find me on twt @softforsamu! 
> 
> For more sweet and spicy details on what everyone else got up to at the wedding, check out the rest of the collection:
> 
> Twitter [moment](https://twitter.com/i/events/1360693898172104710) where you can find each of our fic promo tweets.
> 
> Or individual links to each fic here:  
> [RoMeian (nish)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29430087)  
> [SakuKita and AtsuOi (dindi)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29436057)  
> [IwaSemi (esthie)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29442213)  
> [SunaKomo (glacier)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29398977)


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